LEGAL NEED FOSTERS NEW SPECIALISTS IMMIGRATION LAWYERS DEAL IN FIELD OF HUMAN DRAMA

In 1983, in the wake of the Mariel boatlift and Haitian influx, South Florida also saw a large increase in another population -- immigration lawyers.

In that year, the relatively obscure legal field suddenly became popular.

"As immigration became a more public issue, it attracted more people," said Ira Kurzban, a Miami-based lawyer. "The legalization also was a big impetus for lawyers to do immigration work."

Since then, refugees have continued to arrive and the army of immigration lawyers has continued to increase.

In 1977, Florida had 20 immigration lawyers. Now, there are more than 350, said Kurzban, past president of the Association of Immigration Lawyers.

The national membership in that organization has doubled in less than 12 years and members now number more than 2,500, Kurzban said. The Miami phone book alone has 114 listings under Immigration Law in the Yellow Pages.

"Good lawyers make a good living in any field," said attorney Harry Polatsek, who has offices in Broward and Palm Beach counties. "The public has this perception that all people coming to this country are poor, and that's not true."

However, most immigration lawyers say that the rewards are not just financial, and that other fields of law are usually more profitable.

"Even at the high end of the scale, the fees do not approach the high end of other practices," Miami lawyer Robert Boyer said. "We just end up doing a lot of volume."

The lawyers say the human drama is the main attraction in immigration work.

Polatsek agrees, and cites the case of a Filipino crewman, an illegal alien married to a U.S. resident.

The man wanted to visit the Philippines to see his dying father one last time. But as an illegal alien, the man would not be allowed to re-enter the United States.

"He would be leaving his wife and children behind. So we asked Immigration (and Naturalization Service) to give him parole. And he got it, which was pretty remarkable to me," Polatsek said.

The man, who saw his father just before he died, "came to my office crying. Then something wonderful happened, he kissed me on the hand," Polatsek said. "I felt like I got to be a small part of something big that happened in that person's life."

There are basically two kinds of immigration law. The family law practice involves deportation, political asylum requests, amnesty and residency. The business side involves corporate work, mainly for foreign businesses that want to open branches and employ workers in the United States.

Most immigration lawyers practice both, Kurzban said. The family law cases provide human drama and the corporate cases bring in the money.

"It can be a financially rewarding field," Kurzban said. "Of course, the more lucrative side is usually the business side."

George Moore, a West Palm Beach attorney who has handled clients from as many as 78 countries in one year, specializes in business cases and international law.

In recent months, he has been working with employers caught on the wrong side of the new immigration law because they did not check workers' documents. "In one case, all the employees were eligible, but the owner just didn't know he had to check," Moore said.

Even though Moore handles less family law than other immigration lawyers, his cases are still fraught with emotion.

"Their whole fate and business career often hangs in the balance," Moore said. "This is heart surgery as opposed to auto mechanics."

Leo Ochoa, a Miami lawyer best known for his defense of Mariel detainees facing deportation, sees it as "David vs. Goliath."

"I've always been for the underdog. I saw how little people got caught up in the system," Ochoa said. "If you're poor, you can get caught in a bureaucratic nightmare that lasts for years."

For Ochoa, battling that system is one of the best parts of the job.

"When you go against the government, you have a strong opponent," said Ochoa, who moved to immigration law in 1983. "I felt that challenge was substantial and would make me grow as an attorney."

The worst part is the emotional stress.

"These people are so worried, especially when they're facing deportation. In the first couple of years, it used to get to me," Ochoa said. "I had to learn not to let it upset me. It was just survival."

Boyer agrees. One of his clients is a 14-year-old Nicaraguan orphan trying to join his older brother and the man who raised them. For the past five months, Boyer has been asking the U.S. State Department to allow the boy to immigrate under humanitarian parole.

"This is a case that really pulls at me emotionally," Boyer said. "This boy is almost of military age and separated from the only people he knows."

"It's a good illustration of how Nicaraguan refugees are not only suffering economic loss, but also family dislocation."

Boyer, whose practice is 90 percent family law, says immigration lawyers are more prone to emotional involvement because of the type of client they serve.

"In most instances, these are pretty clean people who have very sad stories to tell," Boyer said.

"And we're caught between these very anxious clients and a very unmovable bureaucracy."

Although immigration lawyers differ in political views and approaches, most agree on one thing -- the need to outlaw immigration consultants. These consultants are usually notaries who charge large fees to help fill out immigration forms.

In many cases, they do more harm than good, the lawyers say.

"They don't know the law and they've done a lot of damage," Kurzban said. "And they've tainted the image of immigration lawyers."

Ochoa says a great deal of his practice consists of correcting legal messes created by consultants.